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Hua Cheng.
“What?”
Do you think his highness… would like to see? To see my… to see me.
“See you? Wha- Oh.” Hua Cheng suddenly remembers that his weapon isn't just a cursed blade.
Hua Cheng looks at the scimitar leaning against the edge of the altar, where he placed it. From this angle, Hua Cheng can't see how its eye is downcast. Usually expressive and loud when he and his highness are together, the demeanor the sword displays is subdued, tight, vulnerable. The blade was quiet while his highness was here and still quiet after his highness left, obedient as Hua Cheng polished it.
Hua Cheng didn’t think much of it then, focused on calligraphy and maybe trying to improve a tiny bit, just to please his highness. It's been four hours since his highness departed. Hua Cheng studies his cursed scimitar, sneering at its timid look, its eye seemingly cornered and teary-eyed. As a cursed eye, torn from Hua Cheng’s eye socket in a fit of madness, formed into a weapon to serve his highness, it really has no place to be looking so weak.
Yet, looking down at it, Hua Cheng frowns at the pathetic air it holds.
For once, Hua Cheng feels something spark. He doesn’t like it, not one bit but… his highness never likes it when Hua Cheng bullies E-Ming. His highness constantly spoils E-Ming and him. His highness wants Hua Cheng to be more open, more kind to himself, to not hold himself so low.
In the low candlelight, the shadows and the crimson drapes of the Qiandeng temple altar swirl together in a hazy cloud of morbid beauty, the boisterous crowd of Ghost City just outside the temple’s doors, the ghostly red moon, high above, stagnant.
Hua Cheng feels a piece of himself start to mend, stitch by stitch. He feels raw.
Hua Cheng places the brush down, leaning back on his hands, tilting his chin to stare at his weapon curiously, rather than investigate this itty bitty feeling inside. Would his highness want to see E-Ming like that? Considering the past four years, the affection and fondness that Xie Lian has for the scimitar and all the Hua Cheng statues in the cave. Everything related to Hua Cheng that his highness has seen, has constantly been met by kindness, love and care.
“I think,” Hua Cheng says slowly, watching E-Ming turn towards him, its eye wide, child-like, small. “If his highness knew E-Ming could take such a form, he would want to see it.”
Do you think so? He wouldn't stop liking me, if I wasn't a weapon?
Hua Cheng smirks, mean and horrible. Yet, he’s lukewarm, a growing bud in his chest. Something gentle has settled over him, friendly, endearing. But he can’t resist poking fun, it’s always been a part of his nature as long as he’s been able to nurture himself into something the highness would like.
“You’ll have to see.”
E-Ming glares, straightening up from the altar table. It looks rather strange, challenging something he could never overcome (something Hua Cheng could never love).
I’m serious!
Hua Cheng leans forward, places his palms on the desk and towers over the scimitar. Hua Cheng’s aware, so in tune with the scimitar’s spirit, he understands that mind-deep worry, that fear of disgust and hate. He knows.
“Me too. Show his highness when he comes back.”
E-Ming goes wide-eyed. T-That soon? I’m really- Today? Why not next week?
Hua Cheng leans back and picks the brush up to continue practicing his calligraphy. He laughs a bit. E-Ming takes too much after him. It hurts to see himself in that cursed eye.
“Don’t sound so pathetic, E-Ming.” Hua Cheng chides. “It’s his highness you're worrying about. Gege will like your form.”
It’s a lie. Hua Cheng doesn’t know if his highness will. Hua Cheng never will. It’ll always be ugly, monstours, evil, cursed. Hua Cheng will hate it forever.
A tear mends inside.
He raises his brow in mock suspicion (he can't… it feels too open, this thing that e-ming feels, he’s not sure he’s ready…), “Unless you think the worst of him?”
E-Ming shakes, swinging its eye back and forth. It narrows, brightens, its protectiveness for his highness rearing its ugly head.
NO, I would never think that!
San Lang? I just finished, I’m coming down.
“Good, because his highness is on his way back.” Hua Cheng smiles, as if he didn't just deliver the best yet most terrifying news E-Ming has ever heard.
They stare at one another.
E-Ming seems to be looking for some kind of answer. From him.
Something mends.
“His highness would want you to show him when you’re ready… E-Ming.”
Getting it out, acknowledging its worry, it's like glass in his throat.
And E-Ming-- its eye waters threateningly and Hua Cheng leans back, snarling. “Don’t cry!” He yells, disgust written over his face.
That’s how his highness finds them, E-Ming crying and Hua Cheng faintly nauseous, holding his head as he leaned over the table, as if his soul had left his body.
Hua Cheng lifts his head from his palms to stare pleadingly at his highness (it's hard, to be nice, to E-Ming, to himself. It's difficult, sickening, and pathetic. It makes him want to disperse all over again. It's too vulnerable, weak, and weird.)
(To be any of these things was to be wrecked, knocked around, beaten, nearly killed, thousands of times. He was merely a kid, who couldn't help but to express weakness. Weakness never helped anybody, not him.)
Maybe, he could speak to his highness about this…
“San Lang?”
“Gege,” He replies solemnly, giving a slight smile in hopes to ease his highness’s worries. He’s incredibly happy to see his highness, his own pain easing up as his god arrives, walking over, eyeing them both.
Hua Cheng offers a hand, guiding him to sit next to him, their sides pressed together. E-Ming continues to cry.
“E-Ming, what's wrong?” His highness coos, petting the scimitar on the hilt, eyes soft and kind. Hua Cheng pouts, wrapping an arm possessively around his highness’s waist, pressing his cheek against his highness’s cheek.
“Gege, I’m sad too!” He whines, dramatically leaning his weight against his highness. He’s tempted to wrap him up in all four limbs, to stick to him like glue. Naturally, his highness pets his hair with his free hand, looking between the two.
Hua Cheng doesn’t know if he’s trying to distract his highness.
E-Ming says nothing so Hua Cheng says nothing as well, whining against his highness’s face.
(it’s weird. SO fucking weird to let E-Ming make choices.)
E-Ming cries and it's a back and forth between his highness and Hua Cheng. His highness struggles to put together what’s happening, and Hua Cheng doesn’t know if he’s covering for E-Ming while the stupid eye figures out what it wants to do or if he just wants to cuddle and fall into his highness to run away from whatever… this is.
Just as his highness is maybe making a decision on what to do, E-Ming promptly explodes .
It’s so shocking, his highness jumps, pressing into Hua Cheng and looking away, in case there’s projectiles. Endearingly, lovingly so, his highness wraps Hua Cheng’s head in his arms and shields him.
Hua Cheng chuckles, in love so terribly bad, dead and no longer able to be in pain physically. Hua Cheng wraps his other arm around his highness’s waist and runs another hand between his tense shoulder blades.
“It’s just E-Ming, Gege.” He whispers, soothing his beloved prince. His highness looks back, eyes wide, curious, no longer panicking.
Hua Cheng doesn’t look at E-Ming. He looks at his highness’s face and devours whatever he sees.
Confusion hits, but seeing E-Ming's red eye must be hint enough because he’s quickly brightening with awe and delight.
(he didn’t lie, he was right, he comforted e-ming, he was fucking right. E-Ming isn't so… monstrous. he feels his eyes burn).
Hua Cheng watches as his clever, fucking brilliant, talented god clues in on another fact: E-Ming and him had been sad about this, about his reaction.
“Gege, meet E-Ming’s human form.” He says softly, quiet, looking slowly at E-Ming.
(ugly, cursed beast, you fucking rat, get out here you filthy beggar, scum, trash, you deserve to die, you rotten animal!)
(he was only a child )
Kneeling on the altar is practically Hua Cheng’s younger self, maybe seven years old. Yet, unlike the regressed form he took during Mt. TongLu’s reopening, this one has paper white skin, a single bright red eye framed by silvery eyelashes and round cheeks. Its hair looks tough, layered like several steel blades and completely unkempt, much like Hua Cheng’s wildness he carried everywhere.
Finally, after centuries of not looking, Hua Cheng observes E-Ming’s human form and finds its chilling, much like a colourless statue, capable of movement.
(he remembers the first time e-ming showed as a human. remembers how easily its body had broken under his hands, how its insides were completely metal, silvery steel that shattered like glass, delicate and desperate. how it had cried, so new to the world).
(he also remembers how bright its human form had glowed in the patch of sunlight that had graced black water’s newly acquired island, how much joy was painted across its face as it tried to play with skeleton fish, how in awe he xuan had been seeing the spirit. that one moment, hua cheng had felt prideful).
“Your highness,” E-Ming whispers quietly, Hua Cheng’s voice but younger, softer, lacking.
Hua Cheng looks away only to be greeted by his highness’s stare.
He sees the understanding there, feels the warmth and hope that he practically glows with. Hua Cheng doesn’t know what conclusions his highness comes to.
But being held in that gaze, Hua Cheng hides his face in his god’s shoulder, shuttering a breath.
(god, god, god, god, god--)
“E-Ming,” His highness speaks and Hua Cheng feels his thumb wipe away the tears against E-Ming’s cheek. He shivers. He doesn’t know about this. They share touch? He doesn’t remember.
“You’re very cute.” His highness says and rubs his other hand up and down Hua Cheng’s arm. “Is this why you were crying?”
(it's not the wrong answer, it’s pathetic like that).
Something heals a little more.
“I wasn’t sure if his highness would like me!” E-Ming sobs out, wasting no time falling into tears as his highness releases Hua Cheng to cradle the sobbing spirit.
Hua Cheng watches them, breathing deeply, surrounded by his highness’s hold, despite not being in his arms.
Hua Cheng laughs (it's wet, he ignores it), “See, E-Ming? I was right.”
(its okay, its okay, its okay)
“Told him what?” His highness questions, holding E-Ming close, turning to look up to Hua Cheng with wonder in his eyes.
“That he had nothing to worry about, that His highness would still like him, for whatever reason.”
At this, E-Ming hiccups, looking up with a wet eye to glare hotly at him, “No, you didn't! You laughed at me and told me to find out!”
His highness smiles and there’s something teasing about it.
“E-Ming, San Lang is just as worried as you! I like you very much, you’re so pretty!” He coos, hugging the spirit close. Hua Cheng goes wide-eyed, seeming to finally understand something.
He really is worried. He nearly chokes on his own laughter, squeezing his eyes closed.
(after all, e-ming is the blade that would never let his highness want again, hua cheng himself would be the nameless warrior that would give his highness everything).
E-Ming pushes its glare aside as it looks at his highness who smiles, raising a hand and laying it gently on E-Ming’s head, petting slowly. His highness’s face brightens.
“Your hair is surprisingly soft!!”
E-Ming nods quickly, fiddling with the messy ends. Strangely enough, E-Ming blushes, a rush of pink on his cheeks. It's very bright, like a splash of colour on an empty canvas.
“I’m glad his highness thinks so…” E-Ming mumbles, ducking its head as Xie Lian laughs delightedly. Ruoye wiggles off his wrist and pokes at E-Ming’s cheek then looks down dejectedly, as if to say No fair, I want to do that too! E-Ming quickly sticks its tongue at it, as if saying haha, I win! Its face is wet with old tear tracks. It's not crying anymore. Hua Cheng doesn’t feel as turbulent.
“No matter what form you take E-Ming, I will always love you.” His highness says. Hua Cheng glares at E-Ming, willing it to not cry but the idiot does just that at Xie Lian’s words. Frankly, Hua Cheng feels better but all these emotions are giving him hives. Hua Cheng looks between his highness and his cursed eye, feeling something like content, warm and gooey from whatever the fuck cart ride E-Ming got on today.
He doesn’t think he’ll ever love E-Ming nor himself for a really long time. He’ll never be enough for his highness, never reach the height that continues to elude him but he can learn in bits and pieces.
As of now, he likes his E-Ming a little more.
That's for him and his highness to know, of course.